


Creations of Our Own

by Schach



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:04:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schach/pseuds/Schach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What if everything around you, isn't quite as it seems?<br/>What if all the world you think you know, is an elaborate dream?<br/>And if you look at your reflection, is that all you want to be?<br/>What if you could look right through the cracks,<br/>Would you find yourself, find yourself afraid to see?</p><p>What if all the worlds inside of your head, just creations of your own?<br/>Your devils and your Gods, all the living and the dead and you're really all alone?<br/>You could live in this illusion, You can choose to believe." -Right Where It Belongs, NIN</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creations of Our Own

**Author's Note:**

> This may be a bit strange. And alarming. But the song in the summary inspired this story and I couldn't ignore it. I hope you enjoy it. As usual thanks goes to my malice and my dahlink! <3

The immaculate man lay on the white floor, digging angrily at his pale skin with his perfectly trimmed nails. He grimaced as he watched the blood splatter all over the blank surface. Then looking back down at his arm, he scowled. The self-inflicted wounds had already disappeared. His eyes wearily sought the floor, only to confirm what he had already guessed.

The floor was once again white and clean: uncontaminated. It was still reflecting the glaring white light that came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. That damned light. It was always there. No darkness, no shadows. Just white. Blinding white everywhere. And beyond the light... Them. The Others. That was Charles’ world. The light, himself and Them. And sometimes the people he created in his mind.

He bit his lip roughly, then sat up and held out his hands, palms down, for inspection. There was still fresh blood in his nail beds. He was real. He had to be. But how could he know? For half of his life he had believed them all to be real. His family. His friends. His lover. They had all been real to him. But they weren’t. They had only existed inside the confines of his mind. Only creations of his own. Nothing more than an elaborate dream. And once he’d realized this, he’d had to set them free. He had to remove every memory of himself from them and set them free into the world. Erik had fought it. He’d refused and begged and pleaded. But in the end Charles had won. He was Erik’s creator. And that had been that.

Charles slumped back to the floor and stared up into the emptiness. He often wished he could wither away. There was no dying in this place.

But sometimes if he tried hard enough he could picture his body slowly crumbling around him as he lay there. And then he too would not exist. Just like the blood that had faded only moments before.

And no one would know because there was no one. No one here or there who would care about Charles. Or mourn his loss. No one … except for Them. They would try to stop him. But if he acted quickly enough they would not know what was happening until it was much too late. Charles found solace in that thought. They already controlled so much of him. Too much, and there was nothing that he could do about it. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

He tensed as he heard echoing footsteps fill the heavy air, but almost instantaneously he relaxed again. They didn’t walk. They weren’t in possession of a body. They were only disembodied voices. They could cause no footsteps, even if they wanted to. He lifted his chin and gazed emptily behind him, void of any curiosity. Whatever was coming was of no consequence to him. They were probably watching as always, so nothing would matter. He wouldn’t be harmed. So he continued to lay there, sprawled across the ground as the figure came closer.

Hey, it said.

Charles didn’t acknowledge it. He positioned his head back to a normal position and closed his eyes. He felt the strange woman sit near his head and jumped slightly as his head was gently placed in her lap.

You came back, Charles whispered, Welcome home, Raven. His voice was dry as he gestured to the empty space around them.

I told you I would, Charles heard. But the woman’s lips had never moved. It was once again … all in Charles’ head. Nothing more. But Charles no longer cared. He needed comfort and contact. He craved love.

What are you going to do, Charles? The wordless woman asked, silently running her slender fingers through the dark hair of her small creator.

Charles sighed and shrugged. He loved the feel of Raven’s hands in his hair. So calming. Heavenly. He smiled wanly and turned his face into Raven’s jean clad thigh.

I want it to end Raven, he whispered. He felt her shudder as his warm breath caressed her sensitive skin through the fabric. She wouldn’t want what he wanted.

Don’t do it. I’ll miss you too much Charles. And THEY won’t let you, her voice was firm and steady in Charles’s head. Then, without waiting for a reply, she continued, Why did you send me away? I need you.

You aren’t real, Charles frowned. And suddenly Raven was gone. Charles continued speaking into the empty air, You don’t belong here. I tried to save you and yet I cannot bear to be alone. And now, it is time I ended it.

~

 

The computer froze again, for the fifth time in the past hour. All of a sudden a pale face flashed across the screen and was gone.

“What the fuck?” Erik growled as he moved warily away from the computer and the desk it was sitting on. The screen flickered once. Twice. Shut off. Charles watched from the hallway.

“Erik, are you okay?” he asked quietly. His voice sounded hoarse from disuse.

Erik whirled around towards him, anger and confusion evident on his open face. But Charles could feel his fear. He was home alone, wasn’t he? No one was here. No on- Charles. Yes. Charles was there. Who was Charles… His … His lover..? Right. His lover.

“I missed you,” Charles whispered slowly, holding out his hand. Welcoming Erik in. He looked desperate. Hungry.

Erik backed up cautiously. He shouldn’t go to him. He had to. He must. He was Charles’s … boyfriend and they… loved each other. Yes. That was right. He took a step forward and halted. Where had Charles been for him to be missed?

“I was out of town you silly man,” Charles said, sounding sweet, but Erik could see the impatience flash across his face. Had he spoken out loud?

“Erik, come, we haven’t much time, Raven will come for me soon,” Charles ordered, fear and need blending on his delicate face. Erik frowned. He couldn’t hurt Charles… He took three large steps across the room and pulled the smaller man into his arms. He was cold.

“Erik. Warm me up,” Charles muttered softly, reaching up and roughly tangling his fingers in Erik’s hair. Erik was thrown by the intensity in the other’s voice. Before he could say anything, Charles yanked his head down towards his own.

“Please,” Charles whimpered, pressing his lips against Erik’s collarbone. Erik didn’t know what Charles was asking for. Why he was crying. Why he was feathering Erik’s jaw with kisses.

“Charles?” he asked curiously as a pair of hands found their way under his shirt.

“I’m so alone Erik. Take it away. All of it. Please. Love me,” Charles breathed into Erik’s neck, pressing ever closer. He was trembling and his smaller body was drenched in sweat.

“What do you want Charles?” Erik whispered gently into his ear. Charles sank to his knees, still clinging to Erik’s shirt, pulling him down until he was bending over him. He looked desperately up at the other.

“Destroy me,” he pleaded.

Erik felt his control breaking as he gazed down into those hypnotizing eyes. He’d breathed out his consent before he was even aware of it happening.

“It’s in the night stand,” Charles sighed with relief as he slowly moved to sit on the bed, “You were my first, you know. And I was yours.”

Erik turned to the table, alarmed. He could feel that Charles had just pulled a knife from nowhere and placed it on the bed next to him. He could not do what was being asked of him. What had even been asked? To destroy. End it. End what?

“You agreed,” Charles reminded him brokenly from the bed. “Promised.”

Erik opened the small drawer afraid of what he might find. It was empty except for the small bottle of lube. How had it gotten there? He should know where everything went in his room. It was his room right? Familiar. But it had an unused feeling. Weird. He grabbed the tub and turned towards the bed, mind a jumble of confusion.

“Hurry please,” Charles’s voice cut through his thoughts. Erik jerked and stumbled onto the bed. Charles was staring at him face taut, eyes smoldering and Erik found himself becoming frightened. The feeling ceased, all feeling ceased suddenly, as Charles’s perfect sinfully pouty lips pressed softly against his. Butterfly kisses, fluttering on his lips for a moment before moving away. Erik froze, as still as he’d ever been, scared that the slightest movement would frighten Charles away.

“No, no,” Charles muttered angrily, pulling Erik over and crawling on top of him in one motion.

“Don’t! Don’t you dare hold back Erik! Devour me,” he ordered, “Devour me with your hands, and your mouth, and your eyes. Please. Please.”

Erik couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t recall ever having been in such a situation. But it had happened before right? If Charles knew where he kept his lube, then they had surely done this before right? Why couldn’t he form the memory?

“Erik,” Charles whimpered, bringing Erik’s attention back to the present. He was kneeling over Erik, completely bare. And as Erik began to notice the rising heat between them, he realized he was too.

Charles grinned at the wonder in his eyes and pressed closer.

“I just needed your touch so much. I’ve missed it,” he whispered. He was crying again, his tear drops falling onto Erik’s bare chest. They seemed to shimmer for a moment before disappearing.

“Don’t cry. It’s all right,” Erik whispered lovingly, running his fingers through the other’s hair. This only made his lover cry harder.

“No. She is coming. They are coming. We have no more time, we can’t be together,” he grabbed the knife and handed it to Erik, blade pointing towards himself. “Do it. End me,” he ordered.

“I can’t kill you. I want you here, Charles. By my side, I love you too much,” Erik protested wildly.

“I’m so sorry,” And his voice broke as he uttered his next word, “You don’t love me, Erik.” His small body heaved with sobs.

And as he said this, Erik realized it was true. He didn’t love Charles. Never had. With a slight frown on his face, because something wasn’t right here, he gently placed the blade against Charles’s neck. Then he pulled Charles’s face down to his and as the heated blade severed his head, Erik gave Charles one final kiss.


End file.
